Songs of Regret
by xXInkstainedHeartXx
Summary: Years ago, two men left their best friends behind. It's been a long time since Sherlock last saw John Watson, and he's abandoned his old life to become a bitter chemistry teacher. The Doctor was forced to wipe Donna Noble's memory, and is now a physics professor. But soon they are thrown into a mad series of events that make them rethink their choices...Slighty AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who.**_  
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_21 December_

_Happy holidays to all. _

_Last year I spent Christmas with some very dear friends, including the great Sherlock Holmes. He's gone now, of course, and I've been finding it very hard to enjoy the Christmas season without him. My therapist says feelings of loneliness are normal, but it's been almost a year since the incident, and I'm not usually one to hold on to the past._

_If he were here, he wouldn't make Christmas fun. Might even make it worse. He would mock it and roll his eyes at humans and their commercialism. Carol singers would be shooed away. Any decorations I would attempt in our flat would be laughed at. He is- was- an Ebenezer Scrooge._

_But I still wish I wasn't sitting on my own in a dingy flat just north of Camden, sipping cold tea and writing on a blog that no one reads anymore because the adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are over._

_Molly came over this afternoon bringing presents, which was nice of her. She was promoted at the hospital last week. She can afford fancy clothes and cosmetics, but hasn't worn makeup since Sherlock left. She looks quite sad all of the time._

_Lestrade is married again. I know, he's a fool. History always repeats itself, after all. He also seems disappointed by Sherlock's departure, despite always being annoyed by the detective. He has no one to banter with, no one to help him solve impossible crimes._

_That's another thing. Crime rates have risen. Banks have been stolen from, works of art lifted from museums, families murdered. It makes me so angry that no one believed in Sherlock, in the end. And now they have every reason to believe in him._

_They are fickle. They are unfaithful. _

_I, however, never stopped. I will always believe in Sherlock Holmes._

_-JW_

Sherlock Holmes closed his laptop and stared at the blank wall across from him. He folded his hands under his chin and sighed.

It was still pitch black outside. He was the only teacher at Ivy Contemporary to show up this early- three whole hours before school started. A bird chirped obnoxiously outside his window and he banged on it once to silence it.

John's blogs didn't usually affect him, but this one stood out. The fact that the man would be alone at Christmas was pathetic, and Sherlock wished he could at least pop by for drinks and give his mate a pat on the back. Is that what mates did?

Mates certainly didn't fake their deaths and run away to become a reclusive Chemistry professor, that was for sure.

There was a knock on his door an hour later. The principal, Mrs. Winters, popped her head in. "Morning, Sam."

That's right. He was Sam Baker. He'd been so proud of himself for coming up with that last name. An homage to his old flat.

He managed a fake smile and nodded at the principal. He'd managed to charm himself into a job here, and now she wouldn't leave him alone.

"You're here early." Lisa Winters helped herself to the seat across from him. He reclined in his desk, growing annoyed by the second. He was always here early. He needed time to think. Why didn't anyone understand that?

"Mhm." Sherlock opened his laptop and pretended to be busy with lesson plans, hoping Lisa would leave. She didn't.

"Got any plans for the holidays?" She leaned forward, and Sherlock could see that she was wearing quite a low-cut top. He could see that the lipstick she wore had been applied extremely carefully, removed and then reapplied again, like she'd wanted it to be perfect. Her fingernails were hastily filed, and it was evident that she bit them often.

"Oh no. Just staying at home. Catching up on work." Sherlock said, typing gibberish in a word document.

"Ah. Me too. Mr. Winters had some last minute business meetings in Dublin, so I'll be on my own for the holidays." She twirled a lock of honey-colored hair and flashed a smile at him.

This was extremely uncomfortable. Molly might have been fond of Sherlock, but she'd never acted this desperate. And this woman was married.

"Excuse me, Ms. Winters, but I have to finish my lesson plans for today."

"Of course. But Sam," Ms. Winters said, standing up and turning to leave. "It's the last day of the semester, cut the kids some slack." Then, with a disgusting and flirtatious wink, she closed the door behind her.

Sherlock groaned in perfect time with the school bell.

Students waltzed in, feeling cocky due to the excitement of the upcoming winter break. Sherlock glared at them. John's blog had depressed him enough to drag his whole day down, and he wanted to punish everyone for it.

"Sit down." He snapped from his desk. The classroom grew quiet. It was almost as if they'd forgotten he was their teacher. They sat down very quickly and shut their mouths, trying to look as polite as possible. But they were still squirming in their desks, anticipating their last day of school until Christmas.

"Today we're discussing…" Sherlock glanced at his open word document full of random letters and numbers. He hadn't actually planned anything for today.

"Delaney, take attendance." He instructed, gesturing at a shy, geeky girl who sat in the front. Her eyes widened. "Uh…of course." She hopped up to grab the clipboard.

There was a thought bubbling in the back of Sherlock's mind. A great idea for an assignment. A way to weed out the intelligent teens from the I-Don't-Care ones.

But it was too dangerous. Too risky.

But before he could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth. "How many of you have heard of forensic science?"

Most of the class raised their hands.

"I'm going to have you apply it to a real life detective case today. The first group to solve it will win…something." He waved a hand dismissively. Then he went to the black board and grabbed a piece of chalk.

The class watched as he scribbled furiously across the board, describing the scenario.

_Two children are kidnapped. The only evidence left behind are the kidnappers footprints…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, here's the 2nd chapter! And merry (late) Christmas, everyone! I got Doctor Who Monopoly, which made me very happy. Did you all have a good holiday?**

**Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Doctor Who or Sherlock.**

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The pan sizzled as he slapped down slices of bacon and cracked eggs over it with quick skill. The TV was talking quietly in the background, and he ignored it for the most part, until the word "Noble" reached his ears.

He whipped around, leaving the bacon to burn as he got closer to the telly. There they were. Wilfred and Sylvia Noble, Shaun Temple, and his new bride Donna. They grinned and waved at the camera, looking like quite the picturesque English family.

The voiceover continued, "Donna Noble received the lottery ticket as an anonymous wedding present. A week later, it's numbers were announced and the Nobles became the wealthiest family in Chiswick."

The Doctor smiled and spooned the salvaged eggs into a plate. Still staring at the telly, he burned his tongue as he ate them. The pain drew his attention away from the sadness he was starting to feel.

They cut to an interview with the bride herself. A pang went through the Doctor's stomach as that familiar red hair filled the screen, and his best mate talked into a microphone.

"Well it was just, like, a complete surprise. Can you believe it? I didn't want to keep it at first, thought it was a joke! I still don't know who gave it to us. I'm thinking it was my friend Marcie, although she was always a bit two-faced when it came to…"

Click. The screen went black and the Doctor set the remote down with a sigh.

The drive to work was difficult as usual. He still wasn't quite used to being in a car so often, and the traffic from Manchester to Liverpool was insane in the morning. The music on the radio was all junk; preppy pop stars singing about all-night parties, or depressed rockers on drugs. He tuned into a news channel, and was immediately caught up in listening to police reports.

_Robbery…kidnapping….murder. Murder of the American vice president. Unknown killer, unidentifiable weapon._

He clenched the steering wheel. It was probably something he would've stopped. If he wasn't retired. If he didn't have a Physics class to teach. If he didn't have painful memories to avoid.

There was a loud ringing coming from the radio. He knew this meant he had a call waiting for him, but didn't really want to answer it. He was in a funny mood today. But it just kept ringing, and the person didn't give up, so he pressed a button on the steering wheel.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Smith, it's Ms. Bailey."

"Ah. Hello Nora." The Doctor smiled. One of his favorite colleagues, Nora was the astronomy teacher. She knew a lot about stars, but there was so much more she didn't know...and the Doctor wished he could tell her everything.

"Hello John." He could hear the grin in her voice. "I wanted to ask you if you were coming to the Christmas faculty party tonight."

The Doctor hesitated. He had been avoiding the event all week. Whenever the principal came in to ask if he was coming, he hid behind his desk. He didn't want to feel happy during the holidays. He'd met Donna at Christmas. Astrid Peth died on Christmas.

"I...I don't know."

"I wish you would." There was an awkwardness, a nervousness to Nora's voice. The Doctor frowned.

"I'll think about it."

"Okay. Thank you, John. See you in a bit."

"Mhm." He hung up and drove in silence for a while. No news reports. No more listening to crimes he could have prevented.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The dismissal bell pierced the air, and students in every classroom cheered, grabbing their backpacks and dashing out the door. One girl, however, remained behind in her favorite class, and walked bravely up to the teacher.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Smith." She said in her clipped Irish accent.

"Happy Christmas, Faye." Mr. Smith nodded, waving a hand politely.

"I...uh...have a present for you." Faye cleared her throat and placed a small package on The Doctor's desk. He raised an eyebrow, surprised. Then he smiled warmly. "Thank you! Do I, well, should I open it now?"

"If you like." She blushed. Then she quickly left, hollering a final goodbye. The hallways were now empty, and every single classroom was desolate except for its professor, staying to finish grading papers.

The Doctor tore at the blue wrapping paper with curiosity, ripping until he'd reached a small cardboard box. He turned it over in his hand, and a small figurine fell into his palm.

He stared at the miniature stone angel, its hands crossed over its weeping face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who or any of the marvelous characters in them.**

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His flat was bare and dull. That was the way he liked it, ever since he left 221B. Any emotional attachment to a building was just ridiculous. He needed space to think, space to concentrate, space to…grade papers.

He sighed as he slapped down yet another idiotic essay on chemiluminescence. No one knew what they were talking about. He wished he could fail them all.

But Molly had been very clear. "Blend in. Be a normal teacher. You had teachers once, just…do what they did." If he wanted to remain hidden, he had to be…nice.

He rolled his eyes and abandoned the papers, going to his computer instead.

John had another blog post up. Already? The man needed to find a hobby. Of course, before Sherlock left, life had been plenty busy for John...

Trying not to think about it, he expanded the entry and read.

_23 December_

_Lestrade has just told me he wants me to help him on a case. I'm in shock. I can't solve a case on my own! I tried to tell him I'm no Sherlock, but he insists. He thinks my flat mate's observation skills must have rubbed off on me somehow. Molly says she's sure I can do it. But I don't know if I can return to that life ever again._

_In other news, my heart goes out to the families of those involved in yesterday's incident._

_-John_

Sherlock's heart pounded with excitement. What had happened yesterday? After some quick Googling he found an article that intrigued him. His eyes scanned the text rapidly.

_Four teens kidnapped from different high schools in the middle of the day…no security camera footage showed anyone entering the building…no connection between the teens had been found yet…_

Sherlock pounded his fist on the table. This was his kind of case. He would go to work in a heartbeat if he wasn't stuck in this damn town posing as a teacher. Why did he have to be a teacher anyway? Couldn't Molly have found any other job more exciting than marking worksheets with a red pen and calling role?

He turned off his computer and stared at the black screen. He could solve it anyway. With a bit of research, some good disguise….no. Molly said to stay under the radar. But he could always send anonymous tips…

He shook his head and stood up to pace the sitting room. Just as he was starting to think and the gears started to turn in his head, however, the phone rang. Glaring, e crossed the room and answered it.

"Yes."

"Oh, hello Mr. Baker!"

Sherlock's voice softened. One of the only teachers he respected.

"What is it, Mr. Smith? I'm a bit busy."

"Oh, of course. I was just going to ask if by chance you were going to that faculty party tonight."

"I didn't know there was a party tonight."

"Oh. Well…there was an email sent out…"

"I didn't open it."

"Ah. Yes, I usually ignore those as well. Anyway, I wondered if you could come, because, well, I'll be honest Sam, I really don't want to go on my own. And I've sort of been pressured to go by Ms. Bailey, and…"

"Sure."

"Oh, really?"

Sherlock frowned. Why had he said yes? He hated parties. Especially when there were going to be boring, stupid people there. And most of the Ivy Contemporary staff were extremely boring and stupid. Maybe it was because he needed something to take his mind off of the Four Kidnapped Teens. Molly would have been proud of him.

"What time is the party."

"9:30. I have to say, I'm very surprised its so late, the staff don't seem like a partying type-

"Yes. I'll see you there." Sherlock hung up. Then, after a few minutes of arguing with himself, he opened his text inbox. He composed a quick message and sent it to the only person he could still talk to.

Seconds later, he received a reply-

_Good for you. I love parties. When you're done, let's have dinner._

_-IA_

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Sherlock cringed as he crossed the threshold of the school. The Christmas music they had playing was incredibly obnoxious. Already he was dreading this party.

A few people approached him and said hello, and he managed to fake a smile and nod. At last, after wading through a crowd of teachers dressed in tacky holiday clothes, he spotted John Smith leaning against the dessert table.

John's face brightened and he gestured for Sherlock to join him.

"Evening, John." Sherlock said, and then felt a pang in his stomach. Frowning, he dismissed it and helped himself to a pear tart. He offered one to Mr. Smith, who shook his head rapidly.

"Hate pears." John folded his arms over his vest and button-down and stared into the sea of teachers. They smiled and laughed, but none of them looked like they were really having a good time.

Before he could stop himself, Sherlock blurted, "Did you hear about the teenagers?"

John Smith raised an eyebrow. "The teen-? No, I don't know what you're talking about."

"There were four teens kidnapped yesterday from different high schools at the same time. No connection to each other, no security cam footage." It occurred to Sherlock that he sounded too fascinated with the subject, too happy, but he didn't care.

"Oh, that's awful." John Smith replied. An appropriate, human response, Sherlock knew. But he noticed that John had a keen look in his eye.

"No connections, you said?"

"Mhm." Sherlock stared at Mr. Smith as the physics professor scratched his head. After looking into the distance with a strange expression, John blinked and smiled. "Well, let's not let it ruin the party, hmm?" And then he reached forward to welcome his lady friend, Ms. Bailey.

Nora Bailey was attractive, Sherlock supposed. But she was just a normal, dull astronomy teacher, who knew nothing of importance. John Smith seemed to like her, however, so Sherlock tolerated her presence.

"Evening John. Sam." She nodded at Sherlock, who nodded back. John offered her a drink, and then walked away to pour it.

Nora smiled awkwardly at Sherlock. "Having a good holiday season?"

"Not really."

"Oh. Uh…sorry."

Sherlock looked at her. Maybe he sounded too bitter. Not normal enough. He smiled vapidly and said, "Oh, no, it's brilliant." Then he went back to staring straight ahead.

John returned with drinks for all of them, and they stood awkwardly around the dessert table. Principal Winters came up at one point, drunk out of her mind, and tried to get Sherlock under the mistletoe. Thankfully, Mr. Smith coaxed her into dancing with him, and Sherlock snuck out the back door.

He walked through the cold streets away from the school, pulling his black coat tighter around him. When he whistled for a cab and one pulled up to the curb, he hesitated. He hadn't really trusted cabbies, ever since….

He shook his head, annoyed with himself, and got inside.

"Blackpool." He said tersely, and reclined his head against the glass window. The cab drove away from Ivy Contemporary, and he stared at the night sky until his eyes watered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ughhh I'm so sorry guys, for taking so long. Please forgive me, and there will be more to come soon, I promise.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

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The man smelled of sweat and alcohol. He looked down at his bruised knuckles and then at the bodies scattered through the alley. They were just juveniles- couldn't have been older than 17. They had just wanted his money. A few insults, a few kicks to his stomach, and they would have left. But they just had to pull out the pictures in his wallet. Had to comment on the one of a handsome man in a suit, smiling as he poured a cup of coffee. Had to rip the picture in half.

Of course, not all of them were dead. Some were just whimpering, curled up in a fetal position and crying for mommy. In fact, only one of them was dead- an unexpected, but not undesirable outcome.

He was so drunk. In this state, he knew he couldn't get home. Gwen was in Scotland with Rhys. Everyone else he knew was in Cardiff, miles away from here.

He had one other option.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"Well that was fun, wasn't it?" Nora smiled in the passenger seat, her teeth gleaming in the dark. The Doctor shrugged. "The drunk principal kind of ruined it for me."

Nora giggled. The car idled on the side of the road, across from her house, and neither one of them knew how to break the silence.

"Well, um, I'll see you after Christmas break?"

The Doctor nodded. "Right. Mhm."

"Uh…yeah. Okay." She popped open her door, but before she could climb out, she made a last minute decision. The astronomy teacher leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, their faces turning bright red.

She smiled and closed the car door. As The Doctor watched her walk away, however, her hair turned blonde and her blouse morphed into a tight union jack T-Shirt. He sighed and leaned back against the headrest.

_Don't think about Rose. It'll only get you thinking about-_

Martha. And Donna. And all of their families. Jack-

His phone began to ring.

He didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. But it was the middle of the night, and if someone was calling, it was probably an emergency. He answered it, grumbling, "Yes?"

"Heyyy…..Doc."

The words were slurred, but there was no mistaking that American accent.

"Guess what I did?" Then there was an arrogant snort. "There were these kids…these, well, they were really rude…"

The Doctor closed his eyes. "You have to stop doing this, Jack."

"Can you…pickmeup, Doctor? Pretty pleaseee?"

The Doctor hung up and started the car. He didn't even have to ask where Jack was- it was always the same street, full of pubs and lounges. Ever since Ianto died and Torchwood sort of broke apart, he would get drunk out of his mind every Friday. This wasn't the first time the Doctor had come to pick him up.

He found Jack curled up in an alley, buried in his navy coat to fend off the cold. The Doctor helped him to his feet and then they both surveyed the damage.

"Are they dead?" The Doctor asked quietly.

"Naah. Only one." Jack giggled and then held up two halves of a picture of Ianto. "He was mean, Doctor."

Aside from these Friday nights, Jack Harkness was a hard, unemotional man. You would never know how miserable he was, how badly he wished to die like Ianto had. He threw himself into his work, taking care of the nasty aliens that crawled throughout Britain. He had been solo for quite a while now, and he had plenty of work since The Doctor had put away his sonic screwdriver.

As they climbed into the car, the Doctor handed Jack a sharp dagger. Jack sighed. "DoIhaveto?" He slurred. The Doctor nodded and started the ignition. For some reason, being killed was the quickest way to get Jack sober again. So in the passenger seat of the Doctor's car, he murdered himself.

After a few moments of silence on the road, he came back to life, gasping for air. Then he groaned, rubbing his head. "Hangover already starting."

"I keep telling you to stop."

"Yeah well I didn't listen, obviously. What did I do?" Then he looked at the two halves of Ianto's picture, lying in his bruised hands. Both men were quiet for a while. The best thing to do in these situations, the Doctor had found, was start a conversation and distract him from thinking about the past.

"So have you heard about these teen kidnappings?"

"What? No."

"Four kids taken from different high schools last week. Still missing, no connection. What do you reckon?"

"Probably nothing. Wait," Jack glanced sideways at The Doctor. "You're not thinking of putting the coat back on, are you?"

"What?" The Doctor frowned. "No! And what's that- 'putting the coat back on'?"

Jack smirked. "Hey, I miss that coat."

The Doctor sighed. So did he.

He drove in silence for a few more minutes. A rude man cut him off in traffic, and he resisted the urge to shout and resort to ridiculous human gestures. Jack let them loose, however.

"So how have you been, Jack?"

Jack snorted. "The usual, Doc. Catching the scum of the British Isles, what else?"

He didn't always call aliens scum. But his views on the wonders of other worlds had changed since some of his favorite people were taken away. "Had to stop a Weevil from jumping on the tube the other day. They're getting braver and more restless all the time."

A pang of guilt went through the Doctor. He should be helping his old companion, saving the world every week and being everyone's friend. But every time he thought of doing it again, he felt like he was going to throw up.

As if to make it worse, Jack blurted, "So where is that sexy phone box anyway?"

The Doctor sighed as he changed lanes, turning into Jack's apartment complex. The sun was slowly rising above the tall grey buildings and the people were starting to trudge out tiredly in their work clothes. A few attractive women- and men- passed the Doctor's car and winked at Jack, waving. The Doctor was pretty sure Jack had slept with everyone in his building at least once. Maybe even the delivery boys.

"Doc? TARDIS still around?" Jack brought him back to Earth with the same painful question.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, she's in the attic of the house. But I haven't…well I haven't even looked at her in months."

Jack looked at his friend. They were both so messed up and they couldn't even admit it to each other. They couldn't save themselves no matter how hard they tried.

So who could?

... ... ... ... ... ...

It was dusk now, and the Doctor could barely see the outline of his house from the car. It really was a beautiful house. The entire front was covered in ivy and the balcony looked out over the trees surrounding them. He liked the isolation of it all- the city was close, but not too close. It gave him space to think and drink tea and grade papers in peace.

On the other hand, it left him alone with his thoughts every single day.

Every time he unlocked the door and let himself in, he thought of how lovely it would have been to live here with Rose. She would get up in the morning and go downstairs and he'd have eggs and sausages ready and the telly turned on to some silly reality show that she secretly enjoyed.

Maybe the Other Doctor was living that life right now, at this very moment.

He flicked the lights on and immediately glanced at the mantel. There it was- the miniature angel, facing the wall, where a picture of the angel was taped opposite. Of course they hadn't moved since a few days ago when he'd put them there. But it was a temporary solution- surely there was something worse just around the corner.

The girl who'd given him the "present" was of course long gone on her Christmas holiday. He had tried contacting her, but his phone calls were ignored. Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember the student's name.

He hadn't mentioned the angel to Jack, and that was on purpose. He knew that the moment he said something, Jack would try to get him back into that world of daring adventures and dangerous risks. Not dangerous for him, of course- for other people. People he loved. He couldn't let Jack put others' lives in jeopardy just because he had been momentarily startled by a weeping angel.

No, he would take care of things himself.

Starting with a visit to Sam Baker's flat.


End file.
